


Magi Mishaps

by flightyrock



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Army, Basic Training, Christmas, College Feels, Deployment, Don’t copy to another site, Ex-soldier!Bucky, Ex-soldier!Steve, F/M, Family Heirlooms, Fighting, Fluff and Angst, Gifts from the Heart, Humor, Inspired by The Gift of the Magi - O. Henry, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mild Injuries, Military, POV Switches, PTSD, Secret Santa, Steve and Bucky are married, Stress, Swearing, amputee!Bucky, but nobody know it’s to each other, kisses and hugs, mariokart, mild drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 00:30:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17172434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightyrock/pseuds/flightyrock
Summary: Between war and recovery, ex-soldiers turned nontraditional students Steve Rogers and James Barnes haven’t ever been able to give the other a nice Christmas.  But when they get the opportunity to show the other just how much they care, they’ll both prove it’s indeed possible to go too far for love.





	Magi Mishaps

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KeyWolf25888](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeyWolf25888/gifts).



> A huge thank you to ohstars (ao3) for betaing and coming up with the premise for this! 
> 
> Written for KeyWolf25888 as part of the Marvel Holiday Exchange. Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> And Happy Holidays!

 

Ah, the holidays. A time for giving.  Peace on earth, good will toward men and all that jazz.

 

Problem was, two of the men standing in the Avengers’ House living room didn't get the memo.

 

Tony thought he might be in shock. He knows he’s only known both of them for a couple months, but  _ damn.   _ He never expected anything like that.  

 

Both men now stood as far away from the other as they possibly could. Rogers was in the corner closest to the bedrooms, leaning forward with a wad of tissue clutched to his streaming nose.  Barnes was in the corner closest to the kitchen, holding a bag of frozen broccoli to his rapidly swelling jaw. 

 

The others were strewn about the room in various states of disarray.  Natasha was glaring at the two in disapproval, making no move to vacate her chair.  Clint was perched on the counter, face closed off. Thor looked kind of lost, sad eyes glancing between everyone in the room, frozen in place with uncertainty about just what he should do next.  And Tony was on the couch, mouth hanging open. He barely reacted as the front door slammed and Bruce re-entered the room, fists clenched and nostrils flaring. Tony supposed the guy’s quest for inner peace hadn’t been fulfilled on their front porch.

 

Bruce came to a stop in the exact center of the room, in front of the horrible plug-in fireplace Tony had bought because it was awful and he  _ had to _ .  Its’ streamers waved cheerfully in the background, doing nothing to diffuse the tension set roiling as Bruce crossed his arms.  He surveyed them all with cold eyes, jaw clenched and temporal artery throbbing away. 

 

“Now,” he growled, voice low and eyes flashing, “someone better start explaining.”

 

~~ <<>> ~~

 

When Tony had first met Steve, the tall blond had been sitting in Tony’s unofficial official seat in the Student Union building, a Western Civ textbook propped open on the table obscuring his face.  So naturally, Tony had gone over to sit passive-aggressively in the chair right next to his, planning to scoot incrementally closer over the next ten minutes or so until he got some kind of reaction.  He was lost in his musings over whether to be impressed by the guy’s guts or exasperated by his stupidity, when he finally caught sight of the subject of his irritation.

 

And what a sight it was.  Plush lips pushed out pensively under a stylish lift of blonde hair and a wonderfully crooked nose.  And the muscles. God, it was borderline pornographic the way the man’s pecs and biceps bulged from a plain white tee that was at least a size too small.  The sight was so fine, Tony couldn’t repress a whistle, long and low.

 

Blondie startled, head jerking up from his book, impossibly blue eyes freezing Tony in place with a dark piercing stare, the rest of the man’s body tense as a bowstring and radiating power in a way Tony couldn’t quite describe.  It was very ‘I-have-snapped-grown-men-in-half-with-my-bare-hands-before-and-wouldn’t-hesitate-to-do-it-again’ for a hot moment, but only for that. 

 

Just as quickly, the guy settled back in his chair with a pensive crease to his brow.  But authority thrummed through his voice as he stated more than asked, “Can I help you?”

 

“Wow,” Tony said, openly staring. “You, sir, are  _ built _ .”

 

Blondie’s face turned an odd shade of red, his face wrinkling strangely, torn between embarrassment, indignation, and disbelief.  “Thank you?” 

 

Tony laughed, holding out a hand.  “Tony Stark, if you didn’t already know.”

 

And judging by the way the guy’s eyes widened slightly, Tony would hazard a guess that, for once, he wasn’t recognized.  When Tony went back to undergrad last year, finally at the ‘normal’ age for a college student, he couldn’t go anywhere without being mobbed for a couple of weeks.  This year, the novelty had somewhat worn off, but he was still asked for selfies and autographs tens of times a day, so it was refreshing to meet someone who wasn’t intentionally pissing him off for the attention.  

 

Tony eyed Blondie with renewed interest as the man scrambled to stand, rapidly regaining what little composure he lost at the familiar gesture.

 

“Steve Rogers,” he said, all official, firmly shaking Tony’s hand.  Tony couldn’t help but notice the wedding band gleaming on his other hand.  A shame, but not much of a surprise. This man was a  _ catch _ .  

 

“I’m surprised you didn’t recognize me; my face has been plastered all over magazine covers the past couple of years.  Where have you been hiding, Rogers? Under a rock?” Tony chuckled, taking the seat beside him as the man sat again. 

 

Steve looked him in the eye.  “Afghanistan, actually,” his mouth quirked in the wry approximation of a smile.  

 

“No kidding,” Tony said, giving him a quick set of elevator eyes.  “You a Vet?”

 

Steve stiffened.  “What of it?”

 

Tony waved a hand carelessly.  “Chill out, Gramps. Just was thinking that you looked a bit older than the usual crowd.  Good for you; cashing in that GI Bill. What are you, thirty? Thirty-five?”

 

Steve blinked, then rubbed the back of his neck, mouth split in a sheepish grin.  “Is it that obvious?” 

 

Tony rolled his eyes.  “Please. You’re Captain Posture in a room of Slouchy McGees.  That ‘white’ t-shirt you’re sporting doesn’t even need the air quotes.  Plus you’re a good ten years older than everyone else here. And  _ ripped.   _ It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.”  He stroked his patchy attempt at facial hair with a cocky smirk.  “But that helps, of course.”

 

It was Steve’s turn to roll his eyes.  Or well, it should have been, but Steve was determined to deny Tony normal-person reactions, because his smile and eyes just went flat.  Tony assumed ‘done’ was as close to an eye-roll as he could get out of someone so disciplined, so this totally counted as a win. He’d take it.

 

Tony grinned, and got out of his seat, patting Steve roughly on the shoulder as he went.  “See you around, Rogers.”

 

Steve waved half-heartedly at him, and Tony didn’t think too much of it.  Until Tony saw him later that day in Intro to Logic, and earned a glare from the professor and Steve alike when he sauntered in ten minutes late and plopped into the empty seat beside Rogers at the front of the lecture hall.  Then asked the guy if he could borrow a pen. And some paper. And to let him know when the lecture was over; he’d be working until they could leave, and figured he should at least pretend to be paying attention for the first class, which meant no Starkpad.  It didn’t work too well, though, since the two of them were asked to answer question after question. Tony didn’t even bother to look up from his efficiency equations to steal the show with his explanation about the importance of organization and record when tackling complex problems.

 

But Rogers obviously wasn’t too sore, since he didn’t sprint away at the end of the period, and even agreed to go with Tony to meet friends for drinks that evening.  Tony suspected that behind his stoic exterior, Steve was actually kind of impressed. They just met that day, but something about their interactions made Tony feel like he had known Steve for years.  He was just a likeable, down-to-earth kind of guy despite that residual military formality. And if Tony wasn’t in a committed relationship at the moment (and Rogers wasn’t spoken for), he’d totally hit that.

 

Steve was a hit with the rest of the squad, too.  Well, the ones that could make it to  _ Kirby’s _ , the endearingly awful dive bar their group often frequented.  It was the first day of the new semester, after all, and last time half had begged off from exhaustion.  Miraculously, Nat was the only one missing, having texted the group earlier that she got caught up with a new friend she didn’t want to scare away and she’d meet them some other time.  Tony was sure she’d like Steve, though. Everyone else did.

 

Clint was delighted to discover that Steve could sign, and the two were absorbed in nearly silent conversation for a good ten minutes before anyone else could squeeze a spoken word in edgewise.  

 

“Had a lot of health problems growing up,” Steve explained when he finally realized there were indeed other people there, continuing to sign as he spoke for Clint’s benefit. “The doctors were sure I’d lose my hearing before I hit fifth grade.  Grew out of it, thankfully, but my ma was thorough, if nothing else. I kept up with sign even after I was in the clear, mainly because it made for a killer show-and-tell presentation,” he grinned.

 

“Why are you here, then?” Bruce asked, after swallowing a mouthful of the watered-down beer.  “In school, I mean. Plenty of demand for ASL translators.”

 

Steve shrugged.  “Doesn’t feel right to charge for the service, so I volunteer in my spare time.”

 

“That is wonderful,” Thor, an exchange student from some country in Scandinavia Tony could never remember, declared, slapping Steve heartily on the back.  “What is your major, then, if you don’t mind me asking?”

 

“Not at all!” Steve grinned.“Nonprofit management.”

 

“That is my major as well!” Thor boomed, shaking Steve’s shoulder enthusiastically.   

 

“Huh,” Tony said, fiddling with his napkin.  “Wouldn’t have guessed that one. I was thinking something more like criminal justice.”

 

Steve stood firm, but colored a bit at the intensity of the others’ simultaneous assessing stares.

 

“Yeah, I could see that,” said Clint, flipping a steak knife carelessly in his hand to Bruce’s obvious consternation, tight eyes flicking back and forth between Clint’s hand and the rest of the group.  “You’ve got that look about you. Ex-military?”

 

“Yeah.” Steve flushed, but met everyone’s eyes.  “I don’t regret my service, but that part of my life is over now.  I’m ready to move on.”

 

“I get that,” Tony said, “but why not business?  Or law?”

 

Steve’s smile turned a bit grim under his beard.  “Well, after following someone else’s rules since I got out of high school, years of being told how to act and what to think, I figured it’s about time I made my own.”

 

“Well said!” Thor boomed, raising his glass, which Steve clinked somewhat shyly with his own.   

 

At that, a chipper ringtone cut through the low-level chatter of the bar, and Steve pried a phone out of a tight jean pocket.

 

“Excuse me a second,” he said, putting up a finger.  “Hello?” he paused, listening, then smirked. “Yes, dear.  I’ll pick some up on the way home.” He listened for a while, a soft smile spreading across his face.  “I love you, too,” he murmured. “Bye.” He hung up, a dopey grin on his face, and grabbed his leather jacket.  Oh yeah, that man was  _ taken.   _ Tony wondered if he looked like that after he got off calls with Pepper.  Regardless,  _ goals _ .

 

“Headed out?” Thor asked.  

 

Steve smiled.  “Yep, it’s about that time.  And I’ve gotta run to the store on the way home.”

 

“So soon?” Tony asked, putting a dramatic hand over his heart.  “That’s bad form, Rogers. We’ve barely said hello!”

 

“Hardly,”  Steve laughed.  “I’ll see you around, Tony.  It was nice to meet all of you!”  And he walked out the door with a wave over his shoulder.

 

~~

 

As much as Tony saw Steve in class, they didn’t have much time to socialize as the semester came into full swing.  Every time Tony saw the man, though, he looked a bit more relaxed. He laughed more freely, despite the stresses of the semester, and picked up a few zip-up sweatshirts.  Turned out college boy was a good look for him, even if Tony mourned the view of those arms. (Tony wasn’t too sad, though; Rogers often left them unzipped, and the way the garments framed his pecs was downright  _ sinful _ .)  They tried to get together to study every week, but gave up on that after week two.  Every time they found a few mutually-free hours, one of them either had to run to class or got called away by their significant other. 

 

“You know, Rogers, we should double sometime,” Tony would suggest every now and then.  “You can meet Pepper, and I can meet that mysterious someone that makes your ears go all red when you check your phone after class.”  

 

“I don’t—they don’t, I mean—” Steve spluttered, then his phone dinged.  Such an old man, didn’t even bother changing his text tone from the default.  Or putting it on vibrate like a sane person.

 

Tony smirked at him as Steve read the text on the unlock screen and his ear tips turned scarlet.  Then he looked up, caught Tony’s grin, and scowled as his face flushed to match.

 

So Tony didn't run into his soldier boy very often. Lucky for him, he ran into another.  Literally.

 

The breath whooshed out of Tony’s lungs as he was hit by a dense body, only registering a swoosh of dark hair as he went down.  Then a book or something hit his foot, and anger surged through him. Tony swore as he hit the ground. “Watch where you’re going!”

 

“Shit!” the guy spat, stumbling, but not falling.  He surveyed all the books and paper strewn across the ground with dismay, running a hand through his hair in aggravation, abandoning the motion halfway when he hit the messy bun.  He huffed, and extended a hand to Tony.

 

Wow, and that hand was strong.  And big. Tony almost forgot to be mad, momentarily lost in the sensation of strong, encompassing warmth.  Almost. He ripped his hand out of the other’s grasp.

 

“Are you kidding me, I thought I was done being plowed over in the halls when I graduated high school!” Tony griped, gearing up to give this clumsy fuck a piece of his mind.  He brushed himself off, seething, as the guy dropped to the floor to try and gather his fallen items, sections of long hair bobbing from where they broke free of the rough knot on the back of his head.  It was taking a while, since he insisted on using his right hand exclusively, his left arm tucked stiffly against his body, but Tony was still pissed enough that he was ready to give the guy the third degree for as long as he took.  “ _ Some  _ of us have places to be, you know!  I don't have time to be run over by careless idiots.”  But the guy was ignoring him, which only made him angrier.  “Look at me, damn it! How long does it take to pick up a few-”

 

He cut himself off as the guy made sharp eye contact, steel blue eyes cutting through him, giving Tony a look that clearly said ‘really, asshole?’  It shocked Tony enough that he took a second look...and realized the guy wasn’t just holding his left arm stiffly. It  _ was  _ stiff, because it was fake.  A prosthetic.

 

It looked like they were both assholes.  Or maybe just Tony. Wouldn't be the first time.

 

So he dropped down onto the ground once again, scuffing the knees of his designer sweatpants, and helped the guy get his stuff together.  They avoided looking at one another, trying to allow the awkwardness to dissipate naturally. It wasn't working. 

 

Now that he saw him up close, Tony thought he recognized the guy from biomech, and he was desperately trying to come up with a name as he gathered papers and books.  From what he remembered, the guy was on the quiet side. Sat in the back of the lecture hall and never answered questions unless the professor addressed him directly.  He often ran out before the lecture was completely over.

 

Tony was jolted out of his musings by the discovery of the reason for the guy’s mishap; he grabbed the guy’s backpack and shoved a book in, only to hear it slap against the tile floors.  He furrowed his eyebrows, and stuck a hand in, only for it to come out the other side. 

 

Then the other guy started laughing.  Tony whipped around, meeting grey eyes crinkled in amusement.  “Your face,” he managed, then cracked up again. “Whew,” he said when he was somewhat calmer, wiping his eyes.  “That was good, I needed that. Thanks.” 

 

“No problem,” Tony said, throwing the bag aside for the moment, and helping the guy scoot his stuff over to the side of the hallway.  “Um,” he said, grimacing, “I’m sorry for being such an asshole. That’s kind of my natural state, but I really should have thought before I-”

 

“Don’t,” the guy cut him off.  “It’s fine. I’m sorry for running into you.  Just, felt the damn bag giving way, looked down, and bam!”  The guy threw his arm out for emphasis.

 

“It's not like I was watching either,” Tony shrugged.  

 

“Ah, well.  What’s done is done.”  They stood to the side in silence for a few moments.  Then the guy gave Tony the side eye. “Well, thanks for the hand,” he winked.  

 

Tony hesitated.  The guy frowned. “No sense in both of us being late, go on.” He jerked his chin sharply, shooing Tony away.

 

Tony huffed.  “I’m not going to just  _ leave  _ you here with a pile of stuff you can’t carry,” he said bluntly, rolling his eyes.  He cast around for ideas. Tony wasn't in the habit of carrying a bag around himself, so that was out.  He scowled. He was supposed to be a genius, he should be able to figure this—

 

“Aha!” Tony snapped his fingers, then started yanking at the oversized hoodie he wore.  It was an old one, from his MIT days. The guy looked at Tony like he had a few screws loose as he laid the thing flat on the ground and instructed the guy to lay his stuff in the middle.  Tony folded the bottom of the hoodie over the books, then folded the hood over the pile as the guy watched over his shoulder. After he secured the little bundle with the hood strings, he twisted the sleeves a few times, tied them together to form a handle, then held out the makeshift bag for the guy’s inspection.

 

“Wow,” the guy said, shrugging the improvised hoodie tote over his shoulder.  “That’s slick. Where’d you learn that trick?”

 

Tony laughed.  “Right here.” 

 

“Dang,” the guy grinned, “Think I owe you one now.”  Then he held out his hand. “James Barnes. But helpful smartasses like yourself can call me Bucky.”

 

“Bucky?”  Tony wrinkled his nose.  “What kind of name is Bucky?”

 

‘Bucky’ pointed at him.  “Watch it, Slim. Or whatever your name is.  You’re still on thin ice.” He hiked the makeshift bag higher up on his shoulder when it began to slide.  

 

Tony laughed.  “It’s Tony.” He bent over and grabbed his tablet, which was thankfully unharmed by the collision.  “Where’re you headed?” 

 

Bucky grinned ruefully.  “I  _ was  _ on my way to my grammar lecture, but I can’t make it now.  As cool as this is,” he nodded to the bag, “there’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to remake it after I open it up.  So I guess I’m headed to the drugstore to find a replacement to hold me over until I can order a new one.”

 

“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” Tony said, waving a hand. “Go to class.  I’ll grab a bag and meet you after.”

 

“No way.”  Bucky frowned.  “You’ve done more than enough.  Besides,” Bucky shot him a wry grin.  “I’m already too late. My attendance wouldn’t count at this point.  Might as well take the break while I can.”

 

Tony returned the grin.  “Good thinking. Think I’ll do the same.  Mind if I tag along? It’s been awhile since I’ve had some human contact.  Been buried in Mackamara’s biomech project for so long, I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be out and about in daylight hours.”

 

“Right?” Bucky said, eyes wide.  “Why the hell I thought it was a good idea to double major, I’ll never know.”

 

“Wait,” Tony said, falling into step beside him. “You’re majoring in something  _ other  _ than biology and mech-e!?  Are you  _ nuts?   _ That practically makes you a triple major!”

 

“Don’t remind me,” Bucky moaned.  “It’s what I get for being such a language nerd.”  At Tony’s inquisitive eyebrow, Bucky elaborated. “Russian.”

 

Tony laughed incredulously.  “Why?”

 

Bucky shrugged.  “Knew a couple of guys in the service who were language specialists.  Was always jealous as hell, so I took it up as a hobby. Now I have time to pursue it, so when I decided to go back to school, I figured, why the hell not?”

 

“So you served?” Tony asked.  It made sense; like Steve, Bucky was on the older side for a college student.  The obvious question went unasked, but Tony couldn’t help his gaze flickering to Bucky’s other side.

 

Bucky snorted, and answered anyway.  “Yeah, improvised explosive device. Thank God for military healthcare.”

 

“Ah,” Tony said, out of his depth again.  “Want to complain about biomech?”

 

“Please,” Bucky said.

 

They bonded over their terrible schedules while they stopped for coffee, and perpetuated campus gossip on their way to the store.  They were browsing the office supply aisle when Bucky’s phone rang. He cursed and fumbled for it, the unwieldy hoodie bag getting in his way.  Tony took it, and Bucky shot him a grateful look, extracting his phone. He walked down the aisle a bit before answering.

 

“Hey, sweetheart.  Oh yeah, sorry, forgot to tell you I skipped today; my bag broke.  Yeah, I’m fine. At the store right now, you want anything? Oh yeah, I’m grab some.”  He paused, and a sappy grin spread lazily over his face. “I love you. You bet. Uh huh, bye.”

 

Tony smirked at him knowingly as he walked back.  “Aww.”

 

Barnes bumped him with a shoulder.  “You shush. Let’s find those damn bags.”

 

~~

 

So now Tony made it a point to sit next to Barnes in biomech.  He wondered what it said about him as a person that both of the friends he made this year were nontraditional learners.  He’d like to think it spoke to his maturity, but it more likely spoke to his inability to tolerate morons. And Tony couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but the each of the two reminded him of the other. It was probably because they were both soldiers, but for some reason, he felt like there was something...more.  It nagged at him, an itch in his brain he couldn’t quite scratch. He briefly considered asking them if they knew each other, but that seemed vaguely classist. 

 

When he mentioned as much to Natasha, she punched him hard in the shoulder.  “Not everyone in the military knows each other,” she said. 

 

Tony’s hand flew to the spot, and his eyes actually watered a bit.  “Ow! What the hell, Romanov, I know that! I wasn’t actually going to  _ ask _ , give me  _ some _ credit!”

 

Nat just quirked an eyebrow.

 

Tony sighed.  “Fine. I won’t ask  _ now,  _ why do you think I ran it by you first,” he muttered.

 

So you can imagine how Tony felt when he walked into the library to see the two of them studying together.  “You!” he spluttered, pointing with one hand, then the other, then crossing his arms over each other. “I knew it!  You  _ do  _ know each other!”

 

“Uh, yeah?” Bucky said, quirking an eyebrow.

 

“We were in the same unit,” Steve explained, shooting Tony a bemused look.  Tony threw up his hands and stalked away, giving up on studying for the rest of the day. 

 

~~

 

He managed to get the two soldiers together with the entirety of the Avengers only once that semester; everyone’s workload was proving monstrous.  (Pepper was too busy to drop in, though; she had a philosophy paper due the next day she planned to pull an all-nighter to finish. Tony planned to bring her coffee after this.)

 

“Avengers?” Bucky asked, after they finished the toast.

 

Nat rolled her eyes.  “Don’t ask.” 

 

It turned out that Nat and Barnes were both Russian majors, and had known each other since day one.  Go figure. Tony felt vaguely betrayed. 

 

“I like it,” Bruce said, looking kind of hurt.  “I thought everyone did?”

 

Clint held his fist out for Bruce to bump.  “Heck yeah. Should we explain?”

 

“No way,” Tony said.  “It’s more fun if we just let them wonder.”

 

“I believe Anthony said it was from a video game,” Thor said mildly.

 

All the guys yelled in protest at the betrayal, and pelted Thor with balled up straw papers.  Steve threw back his head and laughed, and Bucky chuckled. Even Nat smiled. 

 

~~

 

So as the fall semester wound down and with finals looming in the distance, it was only natural to invite both men to the Second Annual Avengers’ Holiday Party.  Maybe some beef would fill the Pepper-shaped hole in Tony’s heart, since she had to go home directly after finals and would miss thefestivities.

 

“Nothing fancy,” Tony said to the each of the guys, when he saw them each in class.  “Just crappy beer, cheap pizza, video games, and a secret santa exchange. All in good fun.  There’s a ten dollar cap, so go nuts!”

 

“Sounds great!” Steve had said.

 

“I’ll be there,” Bucky grinned.

 

Natasha was in charge of distributing the names, and Tony didn’t think much more of it.  Until two soldiers were threatening to go nuclear in the middle of his and Bruce’s living room.  In the most domestic way possible. 

 

“You’re such an asshole!” Steve yelled.  “What did you do that for!?”

 

“Right back at you, pal!” Bucky roared.  “What the hell were you thinking!?”

 

“C’mon, guys,” Clint said, getting up to try and defuse the situation, but all it got him was a elbow to the face.  Accidental, but no one noticed. Clint retreated a safe distance while Bruce took desperate deep breaths as he backed up from the couch.  Nat sat on the loveseat by herself, impassive as always, but accepted a pile of bills slapped into her palm wordlessly by Thor, whose brow was wrinkled in concern as he observed the proceedings. 

 

“What do you think!  I thought you’d love it!  You  _ love  _ to cook, what the hell?” Steve yelled.

 

Bucky pointed at him.  “Uh uh, don’t you dare put this back on me!  That is not the point, and you know it! Why the hell didn’t you like yours!?  You’re always staring at that crap in the art store the same way you look at me in the bedroom!”

 

“Well, not tonight, pal!”  Steve roared.

 

“Like I’d want—” Bucky spat, nostrils flared.

 

“You’re  _ together _ !?” Tony spluttered.  “But you’re married!”

 

“Starting to wonder if that was such a good idea,” Bucky muttered, looking down and pushing away from Steve, who socked him in the jaw.  Barnes didn’t hesitate to retaliate, cold fury in his eyes.

 

And all hell broke loose.

  
  


~~ <<>> ~~

  
  


“I mean, they’re  _ married _ !”  Tony ranted on, oblivious to the incredulous looks flying over his head.  “I knew they were both married, of course, but not to each  _ other _ .  What the hell?  How many times did I see the two of you sitting together, and you never once thought to mention…”

 

Everyone stared, and Tony trailed off uncertainly.  Even the grumpy old men had thrown their respective staring contests with the floor to squint at Tony incredulously.  

 

“What?” he asked, turning his head this way and that, from faces exasperated to incredulous. “ _ What?   _ He said explain!”

 

Bruce just pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.  “Not  _ you _ .  I meant—I mean, why would you think you needed to—we were  _ there _ .”  Bruce sighed and rubbed his temples, slumping his shoulders in defeat.  “Thanks, Tony,” he said, voice thick with exasperation and a hint of amusement.

 

“You’re welcome,” Tony said with a grin.  And though the friends might not have needed the information, they definitely needed the distraction.  During Tony’s long winded explanation, the tension in the room had abated a bit, leaving everyone some room to breathe.

 

Bruce visibly gathered himself again.  “I think we all know who really needs to explain,” he said, glaring at the two men still standing on opposite sides of the room.  He crossed his arms. “Go on. Talk.”

  
  


~~ <<>> ~~

  
  


Steve felt a thrill of wild excitement when he got the text from Natasha about his secret santa partner.  He saw the name James, and kept his face carefully blank as he deleted it as instructed. He picked at his oatmeal, trying to resist the pull of his memories, lest Bucky notice, from his seat across the table.  Luckily, he was preoccupied with something on his phone. But all the same, Steve waited until after he’d kissed Bucky’s stubbly cheek and ran out the door before reminiscing.

 

Steve and Bucky met in Basic.  They couldn’t stand each other from the moment they shared a seat on the bus.  So naturally, they were paired up by the drill sergeant, who called their names with glee.  Steve’s hatred of that goof-off grew every day. And Private Barnes was incredibly vocal about his loathing for his tryhard of a battle buddy.

 

It all came to a head during a routine early morning fireguard rotation.  Steve had finally slipped up; forgot to grab his tags after the two had come back from the bathroom.  And Drill Sergeant Matthews could smell fear several miles away, and was already stalking up to them with a predatory gleam in his eye.  But more than the brutal smoking he was certain he was about to endure, he was dreading Barnes’ glee at his failure. 

 

But to his utter surprise, Barnes hissed at him to check the bushes, and shoved something metallic nto Steve’s hands.  His eyes widened when he did as instructed and found the tags in his hand, and nearly fell out of his skull when he heard Barnes cheekily ask their DS if he was aware his bootlaces were untied.  

 

To Barnes’ credit, the smoking they endured that night was mild compared to what it would have been if the DS had discovered that Steve had been without his tags.  But it was still brutal. “You’re an idiot,” Barnes’ groaned when they were finally dismissed around 0400, arms burning from way too many push ups, and eyes itchy from missed sleep.  

 

“You’re a jerk,” Steve snapped back, as he efficiently changed for bed.  “But thanks. Saved my ass.”

 

“No,” Barnes said, crawling into his bunk, “I saved  _ our  _ ass.  Asses.  We’re supposed to be a team, remember?  The DS would have punished both of us.”

 

“Either way,” Steve said quietly, crawling into his own.  “Thanks.”

 

Barnes grunted, and Steve passed right out, only to open his eyes two hours later with a moan at reveille.  

 

After that night, something had shifted.  Maybe it was just camaraderie born of being stuck in a terrible situation with someone, but by the time they graduated basic, they were buddies in the personal sense as well.

 

“Call me Bucky,” Barnes said to Steve, after graduation.  “It’s what my friends call me.”

 

“Some friends,” Steve smirked, and Bucky lunged for him.  “C’mere, you punk,” he grinned, grabbing Steve’s neck and noogying him viscously.

 

By some twist of fate, they ended up at the same tech school.  And then in the same unit. They became so close, the other guys joked that they were practically the same person.  And after a couple of years, they realized they couldn’t imagine life without the other, and made their union official in a rushed ceremony conducted by the base chaplain right before their second deployment.

 

Sergeants Barnes and Rogers weren’t terribly public about their relationship, given the more conservative culture of the army.  The only thing that really changed were the rings hanging from their tags, and the extra pay. So none of the other soldiers thought they were anything but the fiercest of friends.  

 

After Buck’s accident, he was honorably discharged, and Steve got out, both of them taking a full year to reorient themselves, and figure out what they wanted life to look like now that the military was out of the picture.  They both struggled with their mental health, maybe Bucky a bit more due to the added stress of his physical recovery. They made amazing progress, but it was an awful year. 

 

Thanks to their past service, neither had a problem finding work, so by year two, Steve had a job in security, and Bucky had found something workable in data entry.  Neither were  _ bad  _ jobs, per se; too much time to think, but their coworkers were alright.  However, Steve’s schedule didn’t often line up with that of his partner, and Steve found himself missing Bucky despite sleeping next to him every night.

 

They weren’t happy.  Neither of them were.  

 

So when Bucky brought up the possibility of them making use of their GI Bills, Steve readily agreed, relishing the idea of a new challenge.  They expected to power through three or four years of hell for the sake of pursuing new passions, to finally make that life they always dreamed of out in the desert a reality.

 

They didn’t count on making such amazing friends.  Friends who gave Steve the opportunity to do something he’d been dreaming of doing for years; make Bucky happy.  In a materialistic sense, that is.

 

Over the years, Christmases had been minimal first out of necessity, then out of habit.  They had a running agreement not to buy presents for the other, but Steve yearned to treat Bucky.  Shower him with all the good things he could think of, show him how glad Steve was that he was there.  But rules were rules, and anything he bought could be easily returned.

 

But this gift exchange...it was the perfect workaround to their agreement.  It was a structured event initiated by a third party, and gifts given in front of friends couldn’t easily be refused.  And while Steve couldn’t exactly spoil Bucky with only $10, he could see a loophole. Not an easy one by any means, but Bucky was worth it.  Whatever the cost. 

 

Plan in place, Steve set his jaw, and got to work.

 

~~

 

Little did Steve know, Bucky received a very similar text just a few moments after Steve, and was likewise preoccupied.  But he waited until Steve had run out the door before shoving his cereal bowl aside and pacing the floor.

 

Steve would never admit it, but he had gotten the raw end of the deal over the years.  Sure, much of it was the stubborn punk’s own fault, picking fights with the universe, but Steve relished the struggle.  And Bucky loved that fire in him.

 

So it killed him to see its’ flames flicker amid the horrors of war, then die out completely with the loss of Bucky’s arm.  Steve had never said as much, but Bucky knew the man blamed himself. He was there, he should have known, somehow. Been better.  Faster.

 

Which was idiotic, but that was Steve, too.  All the same, Bucky missed that fire, that zest for life, that...Steve-ness.  He hated the way this Steve would stare blankly at nothing for hours at a time, how he stopped expressing (and maybe even having) opinions and was content to follow Bucky around like an oversized duckling.

 

Guilt stopped Bucky from mentioning it.  Guilt over how much he was responsible for creating this sadder, emptier Steve.  He might have been down a limb and busy with all that entailed, but he wasn’t  _ blind _ .  Bucky sucked so much life out of Steve on a daily basis after his accident.   All that energy Steve spent taking care of him, sitting with him after nightmares, shopping and cleaning for the both of them, enduring Bucky’s rage and grief; it had to come from somewhere.  Steve had been his rock, but even rocks started to crumble under extreme pressure.

 

Bucky knew something had to change, and fast.  The only thing that got Rogers even close to riled up anymore was politics, and unchecked, he’d rage for hours at a time about all the injustices in the world.  So Bucky got the brilliant idea to put college into his head, appealed to that fierce idealism that he knew was still smouldering away somewhere. Over a nice dinner Bucky had made with their crusty discount cookware, Bucky told Steve he wanted to go back to school, and maybe Steve should think about it, too.  With an education, Steve could make his own rules, kick injustice in the ass. And just like that, a small spark of that old fire was back in Steve’s eyes. 

 

Bucky couldn’t lie; he was just as terrified as he was excited to give college another shot. After dropping out to join the army, he thought he was done with higher education for good.  But, like Steve, he also had a fire in him; one that craved knowledge. And he had left it unfed for so long, he couldn’t stop himself from indulging a bit. Just an extra class here, one more there, and this one couldn’t hurt.  Almost before he knew it, Bucky had signed up for two intense majors, taking on way too much as a result. 

 

Steve was a saint, letting Bucky cry on his shoulder yet again, this time from the immense stress of his insane schedule.  The friends he made were an unexpected bonus; their time together helped keep him sane. Even better, they’d helped Steve relax, gotten him laughing again.  Bucky owed them more than they knew. 

 

And now they had provided the perfect way to pay Steve back for his years of devotion, for putting up with Bucky for so long.  The $10 spending cap was a rule made to be broken, after all. A very small set of words standing between him and making Steve happier than he’d been in years.  

 

There was such an obvious solution, it was like they  _ wanted _ people to see it.  After all, they didn’t say nothing against trades.

 

~~

 

Steve walked into the pawn shop with a small jewelry box clutched to his chest.  

 

The intricate locket it contained was the only thing of value Steve had left to trade.  It belonged to his mother’s mother, and he loved running it between his fingers while he sketched.  Something about it grounded him and set his mind free, all at once. It was precious to him in a way he couldn’t fathom, and he thought he’d never even consider selling it.

 

The shop owner was savvy, but Steve managed to walk away with an amazing set of professional grade pans, practically new, his victory an excellent distraction from the hole deep in his stomach that gaped wider with every step he put between himself and the last piece he had left of his late mother.  

 

After they got back to the States, part of Bucky’s therapy was relearning how to take care of himself one-handed.  The only exercise on the list he actually enjoyed was cooking, and it soon grew into a full-blown hobby. Both of them relished home cooked meals after years of MREs, and Bucky found the physical side of it soothing.

 

Many nights when the bed was too soft and the silence too loud, Bucky would find solace at the counter, kneading bread and experimenting with flavors.  Soon he was baking more bread than they could eat in a week, and cranking out pies and cookies and cupcakes like nobody’s business. They made a lot of donations to local soup kitchens and neighbors.  During rougher nights, when he had to start brown butters and caramels over again after failing to accurately judge the color, Bucky would curse the quality of their cookware, say he could do so much more with pans that weren’t literal garbage.  

 

So Bucky would love these, after he was done being mad about the extravagant nature of the gift.  Steve couldn’t wait to see the look on his face.

 

~~

 

Bucky couldn’t wait to see the look on Steve’s face.  John, the owner of the art store they frequented didn’t normally accept trades, but Bucky knew John well from the many chats they shared while Steve drooled over supplies he always talked himself out of buying.  It drove Bucky crazy, the way Steve’s eyes would go all starry as he trailed long fingers softly over colored pastels, tubes of rich pigment, and artisan paper, and leave the store with only a couple new pencils or a bit of charcoal.  

 

(“Too expensive,” Steve would say every time they walked out.  “Besides, I’m a pencil and paper kind of guy.”)

 

So Bucky also knew that John was a collector of knives, and had coveted Bucky’s chef knife that had been passed down to him by his grandfather.  His grandfather’s father had forged the blade himself, and his brother had done the woodwork on the handle. Bucky brought it in to show the shopkeeper once, in apology for all his time they wasted looking without buying over the years.  John had offered to buy it from Bucky many times, only partially teasing. Bucky had laughed and told him not a chance in hell.

 

So John was all too happy to accept it in exchange for a massive starter kit he assembled just for Bucky, packing it with everything he’d seen Steve covet over the years.  Bright pastels and handmade paper in addition to everything Steve would need to begin oil painting, including canvases and frames and turpentine and a palette knife and what John assured Bucky was the nicest set of brushes money could buy.

 

The mental picture of the way Steve’s face would light up when he opened the gift kept the ache in Bucky’s chest at bay as he walked away from a piece of family history.  Bucky couldn’t wait to see what beautiful things Steve would create with decent tools, how happy he’d be.

 

~~

 

It was hell for Steve to find a place to hide Bucky’s gift, but found it surprisingly easy to maneuver their schedules so that he had an excuse not to show up to the party with Bucky.  They had their own cars, so transportation wasn’t a problem.

 

Natasha raised a brow when she saw the size of the box Steve carried in, sweating a bit under its’ weight, but didn’t say anything.

 

~~

 

Clint a real pal, helping Bucky haul Steve’s gift from its place in Clint’s dorm.  Nat lifted one eyebrow for each of them when they stepped into the entryway.

 

“Thanks, Clint,” Bucky panted, after they got it settled with the others.  He actually felt a bit better about bending the rules when he saw the size of one of the other boxes sitting there.  He admired his offering for a few moments while he recovered, before wiping his brow and joining Clint where he was piling a plate high with pizza.

 

~~

 

When everyone was comfortably tipsy, and had gotten through a couple of Mariokart tournaments, Tony announced it was time for the exchange.  Steve found himself grinning with unrestrained excitement.

 

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m dying to know what’s in that monster right there!” Tony grinned, pointing to the huge box under the oak branch Thor had rescued from the park and Bruce had painted green.  Tony added the garland, but probably should have waited until the branch dried, seeing how the shiny material was sticking. Steve had missed this present come in. His eyebrows rose as Thor, appointed “Santa” of the night, drug it over to the couch, right in front of Steve.

 

It was clumsily wrapped, the paper blue with silver stripes.  Steve took his time pulling the paper off. He opened the box within, and froze.  He couldn’t believe it, there was only one person who would possibly know, and who would do so much...His hands shook with shock, then anger.

 

~~

 

Bucky’s stomach was writhed with excited nerves, and he watched Steve eagerly, wanting to drink in every moment of his joy.  He felt that hope and excitement slowly wither and die when Steve’s face grew tight and cold instead.

 

Tony looked at the guy with concern after he’d been frozen awhile.  “Well, we’ll come back to Rogers. Thor, the next one?”

 

But then Steve stood abruptly from the couch, stalked over to the pile, and grabbed the second biggest box under the tree, depositing it in front of Bucky where it hit the ground with a clank.  Bucky couldn’t explain it, but he felt kind of sick while he tore open the paper. And then he was nothing short of furious when he finally managed to see what was inside the damn thing.

 

~~

 

The rest was blur for both.  All they remembered was saying awful things to each other before getting physical, only snapping out of it when Bruce lost his temper.

  
  


~~ <<>> ~~

  
  


Bruce surveyed the two ex-soldiers with the patience of a saint, his gaze finally more exasperated than angry.

 

“I still do not understand,” Thor said.  “Why were you both so angry?”

 

Steve’s nostrils flared.  “What he got me was nothing short of excessive.  And the way he went about it was unacceptable. Iknew he could only have traded his grandfather’s knife for it.”

 

“Look who’s talking, pal,” Bucky spat.  “As soon as I saw the size of that box, I just knew you did the same as me.  And I knew what you gave up. You’re a moron!”

 

“And you’re an asshole!”

 

“ENOUGH!” Bruce roared, and Thor held up hands.  

 

“Peace, friends,” he said firmly.  “What is so terrible about caring about each other enough to give up an item that means so much to each of you?  I should hope to find someone who cared about me half as much.”

 

“Yeah, well he shouldn’t!” Bucky yelled, at the same time Steve yelled “Because I’m not worth it!”

 

The two men looked at each other, and began talking all at once.

 

“Don’t you tell me what I shouldn’t—”

“What do you  _ mean  _ you’re not—”

 

They each walked toward the other as they spoke.  The possibility of another fight drove Natasha out of her seat, and she placed herself bodily between the men.

 

“Stop it. You’re both behaving like children,” she snapped.  “You idiots cared more about some fantasy of bringing your partner an unrealistic level of happiness than what the other would actually enjoy.”

 

They both spluttered protests, but Clint ventured over to provide backup.  “She’s right. You both broke the rules to get the other a ‘better’ present, but how the heck is Bucky supposed to enjoy those pans when every time he uses them, he’ll be reminded of you missing that last physical reminder of your Ma?” Steve hung his head, and Clint turned to Bucky.  “And how is Steve supposed to relax and enjoy arting with those expensive paints knowing that when they’re gone, he can get more, but your family heirloom is gone forever? It’s too much pressure!” Bucky hung his head, too.

 

Tony crossed his arms.  “You do realize that we established the spending cap to rein  _ me  _ in.  The entire point is to encourage you to be  _ creative  _ and come up with something thoughtful.  It’s pretty sad that  _ I’m _ the one teaching you losers about the merits of gifts from the heart.  Just ask Pepper about that rabbit of hers sometime.” He looked around the room at shocked faces.  “What? I can be self-aware!”

 

With that, Steve and Bucky closed the distance between each other, gathering each other in a hug. The other people in the room could hear muttered apologies, and then the two were kissing, sweet and chaste. 

 

Bruce sighed, tension seeping out of him.  Tony offered a hug, but Bruce just shook his head and sank into an armchair.

 

Tony walked up to where the melancholy couple was still hugging.  “Hey, as touching as this all is, I think we have a mission. Is everyone alright with postponing the exchange?”

 

Enthusiastic consent rang through the room, and Tony grinned as he grabbed his keys off the hook.  Steve and Bucky just looked confused. “Come on, losers, grab your stuff; we’re going shopping!”

  
  
  


EPILOGUE

 

As it turned out, the pawn shop and the art store were closed for the night, so everyone returned to enjoy the rest of the party.  

 

But the next day, Tony was able to, ah,  _ convince  _ both shopkeepers to give back the priceless heirlooms they had accepted as trade.  Of course, a hefty donation helped, and Tony had been sure to swear both shopkeepers to silence.

 

The group ended up postponing their holiday celebration until the spring semester was about to start up, giving each of the guys plenty of time to come up with a a gift that didn’t break the rules, or the bank. 

 

Once again, both men stole the show.  Nearly everyone else got each other gag gifts (a couple of people having to change partners due to Pepper’s attendance), but not a certain pair of overachievers.

 

Steve used his prowess with pencils and paper to draw the wedding photo he and Bucky never got.  Bucky often expressed a desire to get their vows renewed, get tons of pictures to make up for it.  But Steve knew it just wouldn’t be the same as a reminder of that initial union. It took him the better part of two weeks and many rough drafts to get just right.  But the finished product was worth it. Steve had splurged on high quality paper, and even got it framed. 

 

Upon its presentation, Bucky gathered Steve into a deep kiss, before wiping his tears a bit and handing over a tub of cookies with a bow on top.  Steve cocked an eyebrow, but opened it up, took one out and took a bite. Then tears spilled out of his eyes as well. 

 

“Buck,” he said as soon as he swallowed, voice thick, “how did you get this recipe?”

 

It turned out that Bucky tracked down a woman whose friend used to attend church with Steve’s mother, and got the recipe from her.  Then Bucky spent a solid week with her learning how to make it. 

 

Luckily, Tony had had to foresight to make the power couple go last, because the drama queens spent the rest of the night snuggled up on the couch, making lovey eyes at each other until the break of dawn, or at least until everyone else crashed for the night.

 

Honestly, having the celebration after break was ten times better.  There were no finals to worry about, Pepper could make it, and the event was the perfect boost before classes got brutal.  They renamed it Avengers’ Christmas, since it took place well into January, and resolved to make it a tradition. But Steve and Bucky weren’t allowed to get each other for gift exchanges anymore.  

 

In the interest of everyone’s sanity.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks everyone for reading! 
> 
> I was inspired by a post on Keywolf’s tumblr (whatevenisthisbloganymore) about people being married to each other but their friends not knowing, and this was what came out.
> 
> Happy holidays!
> 
>  
> 
> feel free to come chat on tumblr; i’m flightyrock over there, too!


End file.
